


From a Distance

by pseudomachine



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Face-Fucking, M/M, Mutual Pining, Oral Sex, Pining, Public Blow Jobs, Wall Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-16
Updated: 2017-03-16
Packaged: 2018-10-06 06:45:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10328369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pseudomachine/pseuds/pseudomachine
Summary: Ignis is having a difficult time dealing with his wants -- and needs.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [twelveshots](https://archiveofourown.org/users/twelveshots/gifts).



> I think this is the first fic I've posted anywhere... ever. I just love these boys too much. The OC's role is brief.

It was six o’clock in the evening when the doorbell to Prince Noctis’ apartment rang. Ignis glanced down the hallway from his place at the kitchen sink, then turned off the running water, wiped his hands on his crimson apron, and strode over to the front door.

The peephole offered a view of a familiar face.  _ Prompto. _

“Hey, Iggy,” he greeted once Ignis opened the door for him, his face worn from a long day in class. He unceremoniously dropped his messenger back on the floor beside Noctis’ slippers. 

“Huh. Noct isn’t home yet?” Prompto noted, tilting his head up towards Ignis, who was already walking past him and picking up his messenger bag. He suspended it from a series of hooks on the wall beside the door.

“I believe he may be at the Citadel this evening, with his father,” Ignis replied. He made his way back into the apartment, moving automatically to the cabinet beside the refrigerator. He heard the pat-pat of socked feet behind him.

“A drink?” he offered, though he was already reaching into the fridge and grabbing a pitcher of fresh-squeezed orange juice. 

His green eyes widened when a warm hand settled on his wrist.

“Dude, chill. I’m good,” Prompto smirked, smiling up at Ignis.

The moment seemed to last for ages. Prompto’s fingers were long and slim; he could feel the heat from his pale digits penetrating into his wrist. The sensation melted into his nerves. It transformed into a spark that flew up his arm, curved round his shoulder, settled down into his torso, and oozed into every nook and cranny of his being; a throbbing attraction to his charge’s best friend pulsed between his eyes. It had been there for years. Rapidly growing and wildly suppressed.

But Ignis was flawless in his ability to save face. He merely returned Prompto’s smile, causing him to drop his hand and wander out toward the living room like a distracted pup. None the wiser.

“You’re welcome to stay and wait for Noct to arrive, but I don’t know when that might be,” Ignis said, his own voice sounding far away. “His schedule is erratic at this time of year,” he added.

“Don’t I know it,” Prompto quipped, hands in his uniform pockets. He stood in the middle of the living room, as if gauging his surroundings for the first time. Ignis watched him from behind the kitchen island; Prompto cut a lithe silhouette in his school uniform.

“Are you doing Noct’s dishes?”

Ignis peered over at the sink. There was a stack of dishes drying on a stainless steel rack, and a few more still awaiting his attention in the sink.

“Yes. He tried to cook breakfast, it seems. Still unsuccessful.”

“It’s kinda cute that he keeps trying, though.”

“Tell that to the charred pots and pans.”

The apartment filled with Prompto’s raucous laughter, and that sharp sound settled the ache in Ignis, if only for a moment. But it returned – burning even hotter – within moments.

“Once I’m through with the dishes, I’m planning on heading home. I have an early start tomorrow,” Ignis heard himself saying. “I’m afraid I’ll have to ask you to leave. Protocol.”

“Yeah, yeah. It’s cool. I’ll just catch Noct before school tomorrow. “ Prompto turned on his heel and padded toward the door. He looked over his shoulder, toward the kitchen. 

“Good seein’ ya, Iggy. You really should make time to hang with us.”

“I’ll do my best. Good night, Prompto.”

Ignis watched Prompto grab his messenger bag and slip out of the apartment with a haphazard wave behind him. Ignis exhaled, slowly.

He needed a reset. It had been months. 

Ignis finished the rest of his chores at an uncharacteristically impatient pace. He did a standard security sweep of the apartment, slipped into his shoes, and left. His skin prickled as he descended in the elevator to the garage level and hurried into his car. 

The glow from his smartphone’s screen seemed particularly harsh. He brought up a new text message, typed a phone number into the Contact field (he didn’t have this person saved in his Contacts list), then tapped the Body field. The phone lagged, taking a moment for the text box and the keyboard to pop up. It felt like minutes had passed.

‘ _ I need you. Alley behind the third warehouse. _ ’

Ignis hit Send and left the garage. He didn’t wait for a reply.

\---

They had first met at a diplomat’s function. King Regis was not in attendance and was not expected to attend; Prince Noctis had other affairs and had declined the invitation. Ignis was in attendance as the face of the prince, engaging in small talk, taking mental notes on the behavior and conversations of city officials.  _ He  _ was the son of the Comptroller of the Argus district, to the southeast. Angier was his name, recalled Ignis.

“Are these more enjoyable when he’s not around?”

“Excuse me?”

“When the Prince isn’t around and you have to make an appearance.”

Ignis finally inclined his head to the right. This one was about an inch shorter than him, with close-cropped blond hair and brown eyes. Average.

“It’s a change of pace,” Ignis replied drolly, making eye contact.

“Ah. Well, it’s good to see you here, Mr. Scientia.”

\---

Ignis gasped, shocked by Angier’s persistence as his back slammed against the cold brick of the alleyway. He shuddered fervidly as Angier pressed his gloved hands -- of course he was still wearing his driving gloves -- up and down his sides, shoved a knee in between his legs, and nestled his mouth beyond the collar of Ignis’ dress shirt.

“ _ Need _ ? I didn’t think you had it in you,” Angier hissed, lapping once against Ignis’ throat with a firm tongue.

“Y… You… I imagine you don’t know me very well,” came the stuttered yet sharp reply, his hips grinding down against the thigh between his legs. He tilted his head, exposing more of his neck for the taking. His entire body was awash with heat. Angier lapped harder at his jugular, then brushed plush lips along Ignis’ jaw, following the trail of defined bone to his mouth.

Ignis moaned against Angier’s smirking lips, but the moan was muffled by a wet, open-mouthed kiss. Heads tilted, tongues clashing... both men grew breathless from the exchange. When Angier’s lips trailed back down to Ignis’ neck and began to apply pressure -- too much pressure -- Ignis snatched his collar up in the vice-grip of his right hand.

“You know the rules. No marks,” Ignis hissed.

“It’s hard not to.”

“I know.”

Angier leaned back, and for a moment, Ignis assumed he had turned him off. He was a fickle lover like that. But, much to his chagrin, Angier lowered himself down on one knee before Ignis and fumbled with his leather belt. The sight of those long fingers against the dark leather, maneuvering loops and clasps and sliding the accessory out and dropping it unceremoniously to the ground, made Ignis visibly shudder. Angier took note and chuckled. His fingers worked the button and the zip fly of Ignis’ trousers; he felt Ignis boring holes into his head with his eyes as he slipped his fingers into his briefs.

Ignis exhaled, more dramatically than he would have wished.  _ Yes. That was it. _ That was the feeling he craved. Heat on heat, coarse pads of fingertips on sensitive flesh. In that moment, he lost himself. Gone was the son of the Scientia line, the proud heirs of the knowledge of kings, riddled with glorious purpose. No -- he was an animal, a beast, whose desires were carnal and uncharacteristically selfish. These thoughts, not Angier pulling him from his trousers and sliding his half-hard cock into his mouth, made him blush. 

Angier made a satisfied noise in his throat; he was peering up at Ignis, mouth full. Of course he’d notice the blush, scoundrel that he was.

Ignis watched him, never breaking eye contact. He thumbed Angier’s cheek when the bulge that his cock made protruded a bit, marveling at the sensation it gave him. His chest rose and fell rapidly, and he felt embarrassed, as he’d only just begun. This amused Angier, and he knew it did. He knew people liked watching him come undone, as rare of an occurrence as it was.

In no time, Ignis had grown fully hard in Angier’s mouth, who now took care not to gag on him. Ignis wasn’t particularly thick, but his cock did have a decent amount of length to it. His fingers took to Angier’s hair, thoughtful in their execution as he stroked the finer strands; he let his fingers get tangled in the longer threads. Firmly. 

Snapping his hips forward, he tapped the back of Angier’s throat with the head of his dick. His lips parted when he heard him gag. Angier’s hands shot up and grabbed Ignis by the wrists. He tilted his head back and away.

“What the hell are you doing?” he gasped.

“Fucking your mouth,” Ignis replied evenly, the vulgarity in his words making his own ears burn. He licked his lips, feeling the skin prickle as they began to dry out. He saw the look on Angier’s face: mostly shock, part arousal, part something he didn’t have words for. But it wasn’t necessarily good.

He took Ignis back into his mouth without the use of his hands -- Angier knew that Ignis loved watching him do that. Ignis bit his bottom lip when Angier gave him a brief nod. The hands in his hair tightened. He closed his eyes as Ignis’ hips started to move.

They moved slowly at first, testing the waters. He felt the way Angier’s lips squeezed the length of his cock as it moved in and out. Felt how his tongue rubbed the firm underside. But he wanted to feel the back of his throat again. Wanted to hear Angier lose control.

He facilitated that. The hands that were still in Angier’s hair tightened their grip again, and he began to move his hips. Ignis fought back a moan as Angier reached up and gripped his ass, pulling his hips forward. He complied. Ignis’ hips began to flick rhythmically, almost curiously, sliding back and forth against a tight and wanton mouth. Angier gagged on more than one occasion, but desperately tried to relax his mouth as tears streaked down his cheeks. He dragged the head of his cock against the roof of Angier’s mouth. Shuddered at the squelching sound of saliva being dragged between his hard shaft and Angier’s tongue. 

With an unrestrained moan, Ignis pulled Angier’s head toward him -- nose to his crotch -- and held it, shooting into his mouth. Angier fell forward and braced his hands on the slick brick wall, choking. Neither had realized the fact that rain had begun to fall.

Once Ignis was done, Angier quickly jerked back, spitting on the ground beside them and gasping for air. The rain was coming down harder; Ignis’ hair was starting to stick to his forehead, and he awkwardly removed his glasses and hooked them on his vest.

Angier was already standing. It gave Ignis a gnawing sensation in his stomach.

“... Is that it?” Ignis heard himself ask. He whispered it; unsure of whether or not Angier had heard him, he added: “Angier?”

“Yeah, that’s it,” Angier replied, words short. He wiped his mouth against the back of his hand. “...You know, it’s unbecoming of you. Acting like that.”

Ignis stared at him. “Like what?” he asked, though he regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth.

“Desperate.”

Ignis watched as Angier walked off, never looking over his shoulder. It would be the last time he saw him like this; he knew it. They would pass each other in the Crown City, attend events together, and pretend that these encounters had never happened. 

A shiver ran through Ignis. He had been standing there a while; he was soaked through, and his car had been the only one sitting outside the alley for some time, now. 

He thought about Prompto’s hand on his wrist, warm and unassuming. How it had started this latest and final encounter with Angier. Noctis’ apartment felt as though it were hundreds of miles away. He wondered if Prompto was still there. Wondered, with that same gnawing in his gut, if he knew where Ignis’ mind went whenever they were close. 

Ignis shivered as he drove, feeling the dampness in his clothes soaking into his skin and piercing his bones. 

“Uhhhh shit, Ignis -- what the hell?” Prompto gasped, standing with one hand on the edge of his front door and the other on the doorway. Ignis stood before him, soaking wet but standing tall, his suit jacket draped over his arm. His white dress shirt had gone transparent; while his undershirt made his torso opaque, the color of the skin of his arms bled through. Prompto was staring. Ignis noticed.

“May I come in?” Ignis asked. Prompto said nothing as he stepped aside.

Ignis slipped out of his shoes once he was inside, leaving them at the door. The apartment was warm, and dark. He had never been inside these walls before.

“Did I wake you?” he asked. Still nothing. Prompto shut the door behind him and walked around him. He went straight to the kitchen, and switched on his coffeemaker.

“...” Ignis followed, feeling his socks squish under his feet on the hardwood floor. The apartment was modestly furnished, with a tan couch, a mounted television, some bookshelves, and a glass coffee table. Framed photographs dotted the walls here and there. Unclear as to who took them. The kitchen was bright, with all the necessary appliances; the microwave and toaster were the two most-used items there.

_ This is ridiculous. I am ridiculous. _

“It… kinda feels like we’re losing you, Igster.”

Ignis focused on Prompto; he’d been staring right through him, feet planted firmly in the doorway of the kitchen.

“Excuse me?”

Prompto got two mugs from a cabinet -- he had to stand on the balls of his feet to reach them -- and set them down on the only countertop in the kitchen.

“I forget, do you take milk in your coffee?”

“What do you mean, ‘losing’ me?”

“...” Prompto shut the doors to his cabinet and grabbed a small container of half-and-half from the fridge. His sugar sat on the countertop in a small plastic tupperware.

“Like, I don’t know. Lately, you just seem… not there. You don’t really joke around anymore, at least when I’m around. Noct’s said that you’ve been doing a shit ton of work lately. I dunno. Like you’re depressed or something.”

“I’m fine,” Ignis replied, and Prompto couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Like… Damn, dude. There you go. That was the most automatic, fake response I’ve ever heard. Look, I’ve spent… like… a chunk of my life being depressed. So maybe I’m just projecting. I probably am. I dunno. But I’m worried about you… you’re one of my best friends, and I care about you.”

Ignis stared at him. The apartment was cold, and he had started to shiver, unbeknownst to Prompto. Those words… sank deeply into him. His mask was failing. Had failed. That, or Prompto was just that good. Ignis’ fingertips tingled, and he felt an ache behind his eyes.

“I have feelings for you.”

The words actually made Prompto jump; his spoonful of sugar didn’t make it to his mug and ended up scattering all over the countertop instead. He stared at Ignis, wide-eyed, mouth ajar. The walls seemed to reverberate with the change in atmospheric pressure caused by those five words.

“Wh… I-Iggy…” Prompto stammered, his cheeks flushing red. Ignis counted the new freckles that seemed to appear. They were only visible when Prompto blushed. He knew this small detail to be true, because he was one of the most observant men in Lucis. And... he had been in love with Prompto for some time, now.

“It’s true. But it’s not just that. I’ve been diving head-first into my work. Living and breathing for Noct entirely instead of giving myself anything. Neglecting myself. My mind. Emotions. Letting this thing… this feeling... grow. Not sorting it out. I’ve behaved in ways uncharacteristic of myself because of it.”

Ignis looked down. He could feel Prompto’s eyes still on him, speaking for him when his voice could not. Ignis chose not to engage.

“I suppose I’ve hit a bit of a rut, for lack of better words.”

Ignis visibly jumped when Prompto’s arms suddenly appeared around his waist. Prompto stood an inch away from him, wrists crossed, hands hanging behind him. His head was tilted down so that Ignis could only see the top of his head.

“That’s… so lame, Iggy,” he murmured, barely audible. Ignis was frozen, his arms like two heavy blocks at his sides. Prompto lowered his head to rest against Ignis’ shoulder, as Ignis’ hands rose, slowly... only to simply hover there.

They remained that way for some time, the seconds ticking by into an hour that was past midnight. 

“You’re not the only one that gets feelings, y’know. You jerk.”

“...” Ignis’ hands finally caved; they settled on Prompto’s upper arms. Prompto tilted his head up to meet Ignis’ clear, green-eyed gaze.

They were so close.

Ignis’ heart was ramming itself against his ribcage. 

Prompto was incredible. His eyes were warm, yet sultry at the same time. Mock-innocence. Ignis always thought they contained more than what they seemed to.

He had spindly arms and legs; even his throat was thin. His skin was pale and luscious, with the same family of freckles that made their home across his nose and cheeks. In that moment, Ignis noticed all of it. Every inch -- even the inches he could not see.

“Like, why do you think I stick around Noct’s place with you after he inevitably conks out on the couch?”

“...No.”

“Or take so many pictures of you.”

“Stop.”

“...You’re so damn beautiful, Iggy, I just--”

Ignis quickly pressed his fingertips against Prompto’s lips. His own lips parted slightly, overwhelmed by the words flying out of Prompto’s mouth. He whined, and Ignis felt that heat inside spark to life again. 

“You’re gorgeous, Ignis. Like… painfully so,” Prompto continued on, despite Ignis’ lame effort to silence him. He simply spoke against his fingers. “And I’ve been watching you, a-and I’ve been admiring you from afar. I can’t believe you’ve… been into me. That’s unreal.”

Ignis felt dizzy, though his expression betrayed nothing.

“I’m… this can’t be. I can’t do this, Prompto. You’re far too important to Noct to have me meddling. That’s why I’ve stayed.... hands-off. Noct needs you. Deserves distance from the crown, from me. To live a whole life.” Ignis exhaled. 

“To engage… in anything… would complicate matters beyond my control.” He thought about Angier. He was out of his life, now. Further than arm’s length. He couldn’t have that happen to Prompto, because they all needed to coexist with Noctis. It made perfect sense to him -- so much so that he cursed his own mind and its ability to work all of this out before anything even happened.

Nothing was going to happen.

Ignis told himself this, even as Prompto stared at him, even as he lifted a hand -- hesitantly -- from around his back, and brushed the backs of his knuckles against Ignis’ face.

“It must be hard,” Prompto whispered, his eyes finding the stressors in Ignis’ heart and morphing them into a saddened expression on himself. He took it all in. Prompto was unflinchingly altruistic like that. “To… to live like that. For someone else. Completely.”

Ignis’ eyes lidded, the words making his vision wobble. He wanted to turn his head and take Prompto’s fingers into his mouth; wanted to slide his tongue along the underside of his index finger. His eyes must have said as much of his wants, because Prompto brought his fingertips to Ignis’ mouth without instigation, and caressed his bottom lip with those achingly soft pads.

Ignis closed his eyes.

He pursed his lips against Prompto’s fingertips, the coarse pads tickling his senses. He allowed himself one finger. Then another. Soon, he had Prompto’s index and middle fingers in his mouth, up to the first knuckle. His tongue rubbed underneath Prompto’s fingers as his cheeks caved in around them. He didn’t see it, but Prompto’s eyes were as wide as saucers. His lips were parted in shock and arousal. 

Ignis could only gasp as Prompto snapped his fingers away from his mouth, only to grab him by both cheeks and slam their mouths together. A moan escaped from between the nuzzling of their lips as they tried to acclimate to each other, tried to fit together just right. Ignis felt his legs turn to water as their tongues grazed. He grabbed Prompto’s face and hair and pushed him back, slamming him into the wall beside the refrigerator (his hand took the blow so that the back of Prompto’s head remained unscathed). 

It barely registered that the action made Prompto yelp. His hands found their way underneath Prompto’s shirt. It was a black tee, absurdly soft, with random holes and tears in it. His pajama bottoms were red and black plaid. He hadn’t even noticed -- he was sure that Prompto could have been naked this whole time, and he wouldn’t have noticed.

He wondered if it was startling -- to see him come undone like this. Prompto would have never witnessed anything like it. And to this degree, no less. Oddly enough, the thought made him smile. It was a relief. He needed this.

So did Prompto, it seemed.

Ignis’ hands fumbled with the ties of Prompto’s pajama bottoms -- he untied them and slipped both of his hands against narrow hips and down to a firm-yet-squeezable ass. That elicited a moan from Prompto. Thank the Six.

He pushed the pajamas down until they were around Prompto’s ankles. His mouth was all over his jaw, his throat; Prompto’s hands feverishly gripped Ignis’ damp hair and his hips kept arching away from the wall. Ignis stepped on the crotch of Prompto’s pajamas.

“Out.”

Though it seemed like a vague command, Prompto knew exactly what he meant. He finagled his ankles and feet out of the pants legs; Ignis kicked the pants aside as he opened his own belt. He sucked on Prompto’s bottom lip as he pulled himself out of his pants, still damp as they were. Prompto looked down and pushed his hands aside, taking over, taking Ignis into his grasp, making him gasp out. The sound made Prompto bite his bottom lip. Ignis drank the expression in.

His eyes widened when Prompto pushed him back a bit and dropped down to his knees. His movements were harried; rushed. Ignis dipped his fingers into Prompto’s hair, reassuring him. No words were spoken. It wasn’t necessary. Ignis found a sense of comfort in that.

The hands in his hair squeezed as Prompto wrapped his soft _ \-- oh so soft _ \-- lips around the head of Ignis’ cock. One hand slipped out of the blond’s soft hair and pressed against the wall beside the refrigerator. Ignis shuddered; how repulsive was it that he’d just mirrored this act but an hour earlier, in desperation, in the rain? In some dingy alley. With someone he barely knew. Someone who -- and he could admit this now -- was a stand-in for the man kneeling before him, eagerly sucking on his cock and licking it as though he were starved. 

“ _ Ah-- _ ” Ignis moaned, but he wasn’t sure if it was from the sensation of Prompto’s mouth or the sight of him nursing his flesh. Some perfect combination of both, most likely. His fingertips rubbed slow circles into his scalp, eyes lidded. It dawned on him that his spectacles were still hooked onto his vest, making everything appear as though it was behind a blurred filter. Perhaps it was better that way. 

He closed his eyes. Prompto was making the most obscene noises -- wet sounds, slurping sounds. The occasional gagging sound when he took too much. Ignis could only hold his breath when he heard that; it was too much. He massaged his scalp a bit more deliberately, giving direction that he couldn’t seem to voice.  _ Yes. Good, Prompto. So good. So bloody fucking good. Suck me just like that. Your mouth is so hot, and soft, and perfect -- _

“-... Hello? Iggy?”

Ignis’ eyes shot open. “Wh-What?”

Prompto grinned. He rubbed Ignis’ swollen and sensitive head against his lips, making him seize up a bit. When Prompto spoke next, the feeling of his hot breath on his dick made Ignis’ toes tingle. “I lost you there for a sec. I said: I wanna fuck.”

Ignis’ ears burned. He exhaled -- and he couldn’t help the short chuckle that escaped him. The earth settled at his feet once more.

“I want that, too.”

“Hold that thought, then.” Prompto gave an exaggerated grunt as he stood up. They exchanged glances in silence, and as Prompto held up a finger to indicate a wait-time, then shuffled off half-naked, Ignis realized they had both been debating as to whether or not they should kiss before Prompto wandered off. Ignis felt his chest ache, and he licked his lips unconsciously. 

Ignis looked down. He ghosted his fingertips along the slit of his head, dipping them into the precome that had accumulated. 

“Back. Sorry.”  Prompto hurried back into the room. Ignis eyed his cock, peeking out from the folds of his t-shirt, hard and bobbing up and down as he made his way back to him. It looked swollen and warm. Flushed. His mouth went dry. Prompto had a hand-sized electric blue tube in his grasp, which he popped open before wedging himself between Ignis and the wall once more. He spread the slick, cold lube onto Ignis’ cock, moving fast without being overly rough as he tried to warm him up. His eyebrows were knit together, and he looked so aroused, so attentive, so fucking beautiful. Prompto’s lips moved, and to Ignis, the words seemed to trail behind them like breadcrumbs.

“How do you want me?”

He’d barely had the chance to finish the question before Ignis gave his reply. Prompto cried out in shock as Ignis lifted him from the ground, muscles straining under his wet dress shirt as he held him against the wall. Prompto threw his arms around his neck to hold himself up a bit; his toes curled as Ignis’ hands cupped his ass and propped him up even more. Smaller and pliable, Prompto hooked his legs around Ignis’ waist and moved his hips against Ignis’ cock; it twitched in the space between them, slick with lube and precome. Prompto’s body went stiff as Ignis ran his lips and tongue against his throat, his toes and fingers flexing, his throat constricting and barely letting out a soft coo. 

“I’ll go slowly,” Ignis grunted, though as he grabbed the shaft of his dick with his dominant hand and press his head against Prompto ass, he wasn’t sure if he could keep that promise. The way Prompto rolled his hips against his cock, the way he moaned and came  _ alive _ \-- Ignis was awash with arousal. He pressed into him, burying his face into Prompto’s throat as he bent his knees to brace himself and gripped Prompto’s ass with both hands. He moved his hips -- slowly, at first; he really did try -- and pinned Prompto with all of his weight against the wall. Slow thrusts turned into sharp flicks. Sharp flicks escalated into his hips slamming into Prompto’s lithe body, making him writhe and cry out Ignis’ name. He was leaving marks on Prompto’s skin -- lips sucking on his throat, teeth biting into the crook of his neck and beyond, and all the while, he relished in the ethereal release that overshadowed the draw of reaching orgasm. This wasn’t happening with just anyone.

_ You’re so damn beautiful, Iggy. _

The words flitted through his mind, making him shudder. He arched his neck, stealing Prompto’s mouth in a deep kiss, one that surpassed all the rest. Ignis didn’t allow himself to feel things like love. It clouded judgment, made arrangements complicated. 

Ignis pondered this as he stared at the ceiling above Prompto’s bed, nearly an hour later. They had finished, staying pinned against that wall for some time, panting and nuzzling and kissing until Ignis had grown soft and the come on the front of his dress shirt had begun to dry. Prompto was still apologizing for that in the shower, despite Ignis’ protests that he could simply have it dry cleaned in between kisses along his jaw and his tongue running along Prompto’s earlobe. They had fucked again in the shower.

Now, Prompto was snoring lightly against Ignis’ bare chest, his hair damp and slightly darker than usual because of it. He’d be sore in the morning. Ignis had tried to warn him, insisted on a preemptive painkiller dose, but Prompto had smiled at him and said that he wanted to feel it. Wanted to wake up and  _ have a physical reminder of what finally happened,  _ he’d quipped. 

Ignis sighed audibly, though Prompto did not stir. 

His schedule scrolled through his brain one last time before he let sleep snatch him away. He still needed to enlist Gladiolus to help Noctis pack up his apartment. Inquire about the last steps of Prompto’s induction into the Crowsguard. Meet Cor to make travel plans and discuss the lay of the land. He’d never left the Crown City, after all. He was a bit nervous about traveling with Prompto after what had just transpired, and at the same time, was relieved that he wasn’t hiding from him anymore.

Everything was finally falling into place.

**Author's Note:**

> Looking forward to reading feedback! You can say hi over on Tumblr too! I'm [Ignist.](http://ignist.tumblr.com)


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